


all that we need

by floppywrinkles, secretlysmutten



Category: Political RPF, Political RPF - US 21st c., Real Person Fiction
Genre: Anal Fingering, Light BDSM, M/M, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Rope Bondage, Satire, Sex, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:47:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26749726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floppywrinkles/pseuds/floppywrinkles, https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretlysmutten/pseuds/secretlysmutten
Summary: today started with a fuchsia bikini top.
Relationships: Chris Wallace/Donald Trump
Kudos: 3





	all that we need

Trump, a fiery man learned of life's secrets, stood alone on the beach, gazing over the cerulean water with his determined cerulean spheres. His caramel hair rustled lightly in the ocean breeze. He tried to keep still despite his impatient excitement as he crossed one high-heeled foot behind the other. He wore a fuchsia bikini top, his back covered only by a thin bit of string, and he relished the feel of fresh air against his sorrel legs. His tawny coiffure brushed against his earlobes, complementing his stubborn hazel visage.

His thoughts wandered to his days in Wallace's company. It must have been fate in mortal form that brought them together. He knew from the moment he laid eyes on him on television that they were meant to be. When they met, they were inseparable. They shared every part of their life with each other. That was how it was to this very day.

Trump's sapphire orbs spotted Wallace further down on the beach, closer to the roaring sea. His lovely heterochromatic locks were attractive as ever. His pools were turned toward the ocean, hidden from Trump's sight, but he knew and loved their sincere hazel hue. He was dressed in his own unique fashion, a style unlike that of anyone else Trump knew. He had a toned but slender body covered with coral-flushed alabaster skin. As Trump drew nearer, he caught a note of Wallace's familiar scent of lingering iron and steel. He smiled to himself. It always reminded him of the time they shared. "Chuckle bunny," he called, walking towards him.

He turned around. A smile slowly made its way across his face. "Waffle baby. You came."

Trump smirked. "Good to see you. C'mon." They began their leisurely walk along the ocean's edge.

"What have you been doing lately?" Wallace asked.

"You know. Sneaking around. Saving the world. Sweeping a fine gentleman off his feet." Trump gave him a self-assured grin and winked. "Other than that? Nothing important."

He laughed and lightly shoved Trump's arm. "Oh, you. You're such a..."

"Rogue? Beast? Uncontested master of awesome?"

"Rogue," Wallace said lightly. "Definitely rogue."

"That's why you love me."

Wallace humored him with a smile. Trump lapsed momentarily into an uncharacteristic silence. Wallace angled his head in response. "What is it?"

"I just keep thinking about how long it's been since we met, you know. I mean, I know it hasn't been that long -- but..." A rare serious look passed over Trump's face. "It's like you've always been there."

Wallace shrugged and looked away. For a moment, Trump's heart hammered in his chest, but then Wallace looked back toward him and he saw that he was blushing. "We've been through a lot together."

Trump thought to himself that it was something like that, but all of a sudden the conversation wasn't as important to him as catching Wallace's flushed face between his hands and pressing their lips together.

Being the master of all awesome rogues, that was exactly what he did.

When they parted, Wallace's crystals ran speechlessly across Trump's face. "We're in public," he whispered.

"I know."

Then Wallace looped his arms around Trump's neck, and did it again.

After a few moments, they found themselves walking down the beach again. It seemed to Trump that something had been bothering Wallace for the last few hours -- or maybe longer than that. Wallace's childlike light brown orbs were cast down and away, focused upon nothing in particular.

It really hurt Trump inside to see him like that. Trump reached for Wallace and traced a finger across his jawline. "What's wrong, Wallace?"

"Trump... it's, just..."

Trump cupped Wallace's face in his hands, brushing his lips against his forehead. "You can tell me."

Wallace took a deep breath and gazed into Trump's cerulean windows to his soul with a look full of sincere sadness, whispering, "It's just something that happens... with time. It's been so long since I was born. So many things have happened since then. All of it... it presses down on my mind. It hurts, Trump. At times I only wish to rest in peace. I've seen too much...."

Trump listened attentively, his eyebrows furrowing at each of Wallace's recounted sorrows. At last, when Wallace finished, a moment of silence passed between them.

Wallace looked so sorrowful and insecure. Trump brought him closer in reassurance, only wanting to hold him until the hurt subsided, murmuring, "Wallace... that's awful. I wish that weren't how it is. I wish I could say more. Wallace...." Wallace's eyes began to redden, and he abruptly pulled Trump into a fierce embrace. Trump's spheres widened at first, but then he too felt overwhelmed by emotion and succumbed to the warmth of Wallace's touch.

"You," Wallace whispered, his breath hot on Trump's ear. "As long as you're here, I'll be alright." 

They held each other as tears trickled down cheeks and dripped onto the shifting sands to be carried away into the sea. With time and soothing embraces, their pain dissipated into a mist swept out by the ocean breeze and into the setting sun.They basked in each other's quiet companionship for a few moments.

"By the way..." Wallace muttered, "do those... count as clothes?"

"I dress how I want!" Trump said with a frown.

"Um, forget I said anything," he hastily amended. Perhaps by the sheer force of Wallace's charisma, Trump did somehow manage to forget the slight to his dress and things went back to normal.

"The sunset is so beautiful, isn't it?"

Trump lifted his head at Wallace's words to behold the dying sun's fiery radiance. "It's nice."

After a moment of silence, Wallace asked, "Do you think we'll be together forever?"

"I think we'll be forever," Trump murmured in response.

"I would like that, waffle baby. Let's be together forever, then." Wallace clutched Trump's hand and sidled closer.

Trump sighed with contentment and brought Wallace closer. He gazed at the beautiful golden rays of the falling sun, thinking about everything that had transpired on this day and all that would pass between them.

"I love you so much, Wallace."

"I love you too, Trump."

Their lips met, and caramel strands met heterochromatic ones, aflame in the fading light. The sand was their witness and the rumbling ocean their approving audience, and Wallace, his eternally faithful lover. Trump thought to himself that nothing could be more perfect in the world. Nothing, except maybe going further.

“It feels like I’ve missed you for all of my life,” Wallace gasped out.

“It feels like my life’s never started,” Trump replied breathily.

They shared another kiss, their eyes closed, their tongues exploring each other’s mouths and each other’s souls. Worlds collided, fires burned, but they were here. They were here and nothing could be better.

“That debate, baby,” Wallace whispered, “Made me so hot for you.”  
  
“Yeah?” Trump teased. “Love how you made extra time for me.”  
  
Trump moved his hands lower, to Wallace’s love handles.

Wallace quietly moaned. “Don’t touch me there in public, you know how that gets me going.”  
  
“I don’t see anyone here.”  
  
“I don’t want to get sand on my butt,” Wallace protested. “If we’re going to do anything, we’re going to do it inside.”  
  
The light from the sunset was almost dead, the end of a beginning and the beginning of an end. Illuminated by only the vanishing embers of the sun and the rising moon. The sea swayed gently, reaching a certain point on the beach. Trump looked back on the beach as he and Wallace left, and felt a sort of fondness. But Wallace was right.

As they walked away from the beach, the light of the sun finally died and they were illuminated by nothing but the moon until they got into their romantic getaway. A Trump hotel, all emptied out just for Trump and Wallace. 

Wallace softly grabbed Trump’s love handles, and Trump gasped. He wasn’t used to a lover as passionate as Wallace was, as perfect as Wallace was. Wallace massaged them in his hands, and Trump only increased his walking speed, hoping to get to their luxurious suite faster.

At last, they got to their suite. It was huge, with an oversized king bed in the room. It was perfect for whatever they would do.  
  
“Strip and get on the bed, baby,” Wallace said commandingly.  
  
“Oh, yeah? Make me.” Trump smirked, already taking his bikini top off.

"Looks like I'll have to." Wallace rolled his eyes dramatically. "You could have made this so much easier for me."

"You like this more and you know it." Trump stared defiantly into Wallace's eyes but Wallace didn't back down. 

That was one of Trump's favorite things about Wallace (besides, well, everything). Wallace didn't just accept Trump's words as fact. He challenged them and made everything interesting. Including in the bedroom.

Wallace went away for a bit to get something. Trump waited excitedly.

"Since you insist on being so bad, I'm going to tie you up until you learn your lesson," Wallace announced as he walked back into the room.

Trump bit his lip excitedly and assumed the position. Arms up, legs out.

Wallace deftly tied the rope around Trump's arms and legs. Trump moved around to test the ropes, but found that the ropes barely gave.

"Remember your safeword?" Wallace asked.

Trump nodded. "Ivanka."

Wallace nodded slowly. "And your colors?"

"Red for stop, yellow for slow down, and green for all good. I know this, Wallace," Trump insisted.

"I have to make sure," Wallace replied softly. 

The scene was almost picturesque, Trump noted. The slivers of moonlight coming through the window slightly illuminated him and Wallace, and Wallace looked amazing in his element. Trump was sure that he had to look good as well.

"You need to take your clothes off," Trump suddenly said.

"Do you tell me what to do now?" Wallace replied, arching an eyebrow. He relaxed afterwards, stripping entirely naked.

Wallace was beautiful, naked or with clothes on. Trump swallowed the excess saliva he had produced when Wallace stripped.

"I'm gonna have you suck me off," Wallace said. "You remember our nonverbals?"

"One tap to continue, two to slow, three to stop. I told you, Wallace, I already know these."

"I just need you to be safe." Wallace paused. "What if something bad happens?"

Trump stopped and considered it. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Wallace responded.

Trump felt his heart do a twist in his chest. Despite any persona Wallace put on, he always _cared_. And that’s what really mattered.

And then he put it in.

Trump moaned into Wallace’s cock as Wallace’s rough hands fisted Trump’s thinning blond hair and forced his head down onto it, balls deep. Wallace wasn’t the only one who had gotten horny because of the debate last night -- the sexual tension that had risen between the two of them had heightened Trump’s arousal tenfold, and Trump felt so horny that he could burst already.

“Oh fuck, waffle baby,” Wallace groaned, his wrinkly cock causing Trump’s mottled cheeks to bulge as he took it. “You suck my cock so good…”

Trump smiled around Wallace’s tip. It always made him so happy to see Wallace enjoy his work. He turned his eyes upward and locked his eyes onto Wallace’s as Wallace thrusted his thick cock into Trump’s mouth. Drool was all around Trump’s face as he continued enjoying the deep-throating the member. 

“Baby, I’m going to,” Wallace panted out as he pulled his member out of Trump’s mouth. Trump whined, feeling empty. But Wallace’s shriveled cock grazed Trump’s equally shriveled face, with Wallace cumming instantly.

Trump looked up at Wallace through his own azure orbs as he came. He was a stoic picture of manliness and vulnerability with his eyes scrunched up and thick, virile cum spurting on Trump’s face.

“You took it so well for me, baby,” Wallace said once he was done. 

Trump licked some of the cum off of his face with his tongue. 

“I can take more if you want, sir,” Trump replied breathily.

“I need a bit,” Wallace responded, still panting. “Do you need me to take care of you?”

“Yeah,” Trump breathed out. “I think so.”

Wallace opened the bedside table and pulled out an unused bottle of lube. 

“I think I should untie you, because you’ve been so good.” 

Trump made an upset noise. “Don’t do it until after I cum.”

“If you really want it that bad.” Wallace smiled.

He then deftly coated both of his hands in lube. His left one went to Trump’s cock, while the other one went to his hole.

It was one finger, then two, then three. Trump felt so filled and satisfied. He felt this way every time this happened, but especially now, when he felt safe and taken care of. Like he had no worries in the world. All of his responsibilities just dissipated away. There wasn’t anything but him and Wallace and the beach and the hotel. 

Before long, Wallace hit Trump’s prostate. Trump moaned loudly several times, humping back against the fingers that filled and satiated him and attempting to get more friction from the hand that surrounded him. 

“Uhh, Wallace, I’m going to-” 

Trump suddenly saw stars and felt a sudden sense of invincibility, like he was on top of the world, and relief, like he never had to be worried about anything. He rode out that feeling for as long as he could.

“..ump, Trump?” Wallace asked. 

“Yeah?” Trump replied croakily.

“We need to get you cleaned off. It might be a bit oversensitive.”  
  
“That’s fine,” Trump responded. He could slowly feel himself getting more and more tired. Wallace came back and cleaned Trump up, but Trump didn’t know when it ended.

They woke up the next morning tangled around each other. It was a lazy vacation morning, something they both wanted to cherish forever but they knew they couldn’t. They had to wake up.

“Coffee?” Wallace asked Trump.

Trump smiled. “Please.”  
  
As the Keurig whirred and prepared their coffee, they stared into each other’s eyes. This was all they needed. So they smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> this is an incredibly cursed fic that i had the privilege of making with my friends (ao3 users miphy and secretlysmutten if they don't show up under coauthors).
> 
> kudos, comment, send this and traumatize your friends. if we get enough kudos, we'll make a fic with joe biden and a threesome.


End file.
